


Your Hand In My Hand (My Heart on My Sleeve)

by mazily



Category: Gunnerkrigg Court
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mazily/pseuds/mazily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is, and is not, a dance. In three dimensions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. d = √(x2- x1)2 + (y2 - y1)2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [volta_arovet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/volta_arovet/gifts).



Touch is strange. To touch a thing, an Annie, a Kat, _Robot_.

"You are my friend," Robot says. He tilts his head. I can feel his hand all around mine: top, side, between my fingers. His metal is cold. Or maybe it is hot. I know the words--"I'm cold, Annie, let me under the blanket!"; "It's too hot to wear trousers today"--but I do not recognize which feeling this is.

I shiver. Shiver, verb: to quiver or vibrate, as by the force of the wind. I duck my head further back into my jumper hood. It makes me smile. My Robot hood. My Robot, my friend. His hand still touches mine.

"Annie," I ask, "How do I know if I am cold or hot?"

*

We build our room in the closet behind one of the staircases that lead to nowhere. The closet is bigger on the inside. I explain this to Kat when she and Annie visit for the first time, and she laughs. "Like a TARDIS," she says, _hahahaha_.

"Hahahaha!" I repeat.

"Hahahaha," says Robot.

Kat bends over--I worry that she might be hurt, but Annie doesn't try to rescue her so she must be okay--and slides down the wall. She sits on the floor. Tears leak from her eyes, and Annie places a hand on Kat's head. Kat turns and rests her forehead against Annie's leg.

Robot leans toward me. "I am glad I swept last night," he says. I am glad too.

Our room is clean. There is a bed in the corner; I borrowed it from one of the haunted dormitories in the missing tower, and our blankets were a present from Parley. She is very sorry. She says she is sorry often. We do not sleep in our bed, but sometimes Robot will ask me to shut him down overnight. He trusts me to turn him back on in the morning. This makes me warmer inside than our blankets.

Robot holds my hand. I like the way it feels between my fingers.

"So, Shadow," Kat says, "How you enjoying life in three dimensions?"

I smile. Hold my arms out in front of me so I can see my sleeves. "I like it very much!"

"Good," Annie says. She keeps brushing her fingers through Kat's hair. It looks nice.

"Robot," I ask, "Do you wish I had hair? Should I try to grow some? I can try!"

I close my eyes and concentrate on hair, my head, the shape of Kat's shadow against the wall. I like the way her head looks spiky. I vibrate all over, and Robot tries to hold me still. I focus on Kat's hair. It sticks up. I can't stop shaking.

"Stop," Robot says. His voice sounds strange. I think my edges are moving, changing shape, but I can't lift my hand to check. I try harder. My jumper is itchy. "Shadow, no, stop. Don't leave me."

"Shadow!" Annie says.

"I won't," I say. I stop thinking about hair. I open my eyes. "Robot, I won't."

Robot's arms around me are the opposite of spikes.

*

My jumper is soft because I use fabric softener when I wash it. The Court is dark. Robot and I race through the corridors. It is harder to sneak in three dimensions, so I practice after Kat and Annie return to their dorms.

Someone yells, "Shut up I'mma mess you up."

I stop running. Robot bumps into me, but I stand up as tall as I can and absorb his weight. I peer around the corner: the demon girl is standing with her arm around her magic friend, while the Boy Called Jack twitches in front of them.

The wall behind my back is damp. This section of the Court always smells like science, but the demon girl smells like dying leaves and honeysuckle. "We should bring a black cape next time," Robot says, "Or a blanket." He is very shiny. We stand close enough together to touch from shoulder to foot.

"Good idea," I whisper. I squint. Tap Robot's elbow until he pays attention.

"Please," the boy called Jack says. He looks sad. Or mad. Annie says they're almost the same, sometimes, and I think she is right. "I just need five minutes, and then I'll piss off. I swear." He holds out his hands: maybe it is a prayer.

"Oh," Robot says. He bounces on the edges of his feet. "I know this-"

"Shh," I tell him.

"Oh," he whispers.

"Two minutes," the demon girl says, "And then I kick yer head off."

"Right." The boy called Jack shifts his weight. He runs his fingers through his hair. Wraps his hands around his ears and keeps them there. "Erm, youfancygoingtothedancewithme? Both of you, of course, I mean. Right. Okay."

The demon girl and her magic friend touch hands. They communicate in their minds--the boy called Jack paces back and forth; I stand perfectly still, but he turns before he reaches us--and neither Robot nor I can understand them.

One of the sentry birds flies overhead. Robot tells it to leave us alone, but it flies over to the demon girl and she starts to shriek. The entire corridor shakes. I wrap my hand around Robot's wrist, and I start to run.

"I can fight," Robot says. I pretend I don't hear him; Kat is not with us to put him back together if he breaks.

*

"Do you miss your family?" Annie asks.

Annie always remembers to bring a torch with her when we sit under her sheets to talk. Her bed is soft. It smells like Annie and grease, magic and Kat and Reynardine. place my hand on top of hers and wait until she folds our fingers together. Her skin is soft and hot. It doesn't feel anything like Robot's metal, but I like it almost as much.

"No," I say, but I do.

I miss my mirror shadow and the cousins I used to slide through the forest with at night. I miss the trees and the rocks and the caves. I even miss Coyote, sometimes, when Robot is practicing with Parley and I am alone in our room.

"Yes," I say.

"Yeah," Annie says. She squeezes my hand, and my entire body tingles. "Me too."


	2. Ornithology

Gamma reaches out. Touches ( _real_ ) and her face turns red and so does Nose. Carver half-bent over, scraping the wall with her cheek. Her teeth nowhere near sharp enough, but growling like a lion. At me don’t matter, but Gamma never did nothing to either of them.

"Ger off. Don’t touch 'er."

I push, push her out of the way, and my hair blows back and Carver’s not Gamma not.

( _Mine._ )

Nose crouched on the floor like a sissy. Bent over her own legs. Spider legs. Chicken legs. Carver talking gibberish with Gamma ( _mine_ ) but Gamma’s finger pressed around me finger, twisting. Boy voices from nowhere coming at us. Clack clack of boy feet on stone. Damned bird’s eyes everywhere I’ll mess 'em up real bad.

I snap my mouth to tell 'em.

\--No.

Gamma don’t like it when I bite the heads off things, no matter whether they’re real or not. But she waves her arm around, and Carver does too to make the bird fly. Nose just sits. Like a big stupid nose. I kick at her. She makes a face so’s her nose is bigger and her eyes are smaller. I laugh. Her shirt don’t close up right and she leans over to try to figure out buttons. "Yer stupid," I say. "Stupid lazy cow."

"Sod off," she says. Her fingers’re all tangled in 'er buttonholes. She wobbles to her feet like she ain’t never walked before. I wanna laugh and laugh but the sounds ain’t right outta my mouth. My throat dries shut and I wanna cry and break the world in half so’s the oceans rain all over the stars.

Everything’s all sparking. Gamma needs to sleep again. People need to sleep.

\--I slept yesterday. I’m not tired.

\--Liar.

Gamma’s face smiles and breaks open into a yawn.

Gamma’s heavy and light and she breathes fire against my shoulder when she yawns. A spider grows out of the tower wall and empty faces start to crawl closer. Carver’s touching her giant nose friend (I know 'er name won’t say it none not even in me skull); Gamma’s here and she’s touching but the spiders the empty faces the tik tok tik tok.

Nose and Carver’r making googly faces at one another. A boy melts and drips toward me like a river or one of them candles and Gamma’s zzzzz zzzzz zz melting on me shoulder too. "Oi," I say, "Carver."

"Yes?" she says, but she don’t look up just keeps fixing Nose’s shirt. Stupid.

\--Gamma? Gamma?

Gamma shakes. Droolin’ on my shoulder, wet and if it were anyone else I’d punch 'em in the ear. It’s Gamma, though, and she mutters nonsense about nothing and the shadows go bright. Magic. Never understood it. I can feel her mouth movin’ against the back of my neck.

"Carver," I say. My voice is thunder, but there ain’t no rain there innit. Clouds but no rain.

The boy had a spider. The boy’s spider is gone. I miss it. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. The whitelegs is from the place inside and it was bad like the place. The boy is better with his smile cutting his face open instead of spiders. His giant face.

"zzzzshishizzzz," he says, and his head goes sideways. There’s a big black crack where a swot’d wear a tie.

"Damnit what’s you staring at I’s going to smash yer face in." I can’t tell how loud I’m saying it.

My fist goes up and over ready to strike. My shoulder moves and Gamma jumps even though I’d never smash 'er. Not my Gamma not never. She makes a sound like toast and presses closer so’s we’re almost one person.

\--Stupid head ain’t attached right it’s falling off his neck.

Gamma’s eyes is smarter’n a million teachers and her hands’re even smarter than that.

She smacks his face and it snaps back up (real). The crack seals closed with a slurping sound. Like beans pouring outta the can. The boy (Jack, Jack, his name is Jack) walks to and from me to and from the door. Carver’s face is huge and round in front of me and now she touches me where Gamma don’t. There was a whiteleg swinging from Jack’s ear, but there isn’t now there’s just his face. It goes solid like a Guy Fawkes mask.

"Zimmy," he says. "You fancy going to the dance with me?" all in one _youfancygoingtothedancewithme_.

\--Zimmy?

 _xhahsizzzszzsttxxxhhhhhjx_

\--Zimmy?

Jack’s smile jumps offa his face an’ his fingers ain’t spiders in his hair. Gamma’s talking to him _words words words_ and her arms wrap around me and don’t touch him (mine). The air’s all staticky and wrong. Me brain won’t stay on just flickers off and on like candles.

\--Gamma.

"Zimmy," says Carver says Jack says both of 'em together at the same time.

\-- _Zimmy._ Be good.

\--I ain’t even done anything.

\--Good.

Gamma moves so’s her forehead rests against my temple. Everything goes still. Calm 'n’ quiet before the world restarts. Jack’s breathing goes queer and his eyes twitch back and forth, Gamma to me. He blinks three times fast. "Erm," he says.

"I told yer I’s gonna-"

"Sorry," Gamma says. She should never say sorry she’s too good. Yer all too bad.

"Both of you, of course," Jack says. "I’m asking both of you to the dance. With me. You reckon?"

Over inna corner Nose snorts and Carver looks at 'er like she can say things in Nose’s mind. Nose ain’t that special. I wanna burn 'em all to the ground so’s there’s nothing left just raze this whole place down. Gamma’s fingers tickle at the inside of my elbow. Her whole face goes pink.

"Yes," she says. "If the weather is."

It ain’t rained in forever. The air shimmers like it wants to rain but it ain’t ready yet. Soon. Tomorrow. The birds come back all _tik tok tik tok_ and Gamma holds me so my skin don’t run away.

"Erm, right," Jack says.

"Right," I say, "Now gerroff and leave us alone so’s we can think."

Something tiny and black pulls a string and Jack’s mouth stretches wider than a mouth can go. He’s got magic too, not like Gamma ( _mine_ ) like whitelegs tickling under yer skin or sugary tea inna broken teapot under the bed. He don’t know how to use it right so’s fer now it just fizzles like lightning that don’t light.

"Right, then," he says, "Saturday night! I’ll meet you at the hall!" His boy feet clatter against the stone and the sodding birds stare and _tik_ and follow him home.


	3. Translated from the Polish

Jack likes Zimmy: he smiles at her, and he says her name. Zimmy's body doesn't know how to react. Her entire body goes cold. Her skin feels like one of Kat's robots. Carver glances back and forth between Zimmy, Kat, Jack, me; she twists a piece of her hair around her finger and lets it curl free.

I press my hand against his face, push three fingers against his cheek: he stays. He is real. Everyone is looking at me. I press myself closer to Zimmy--my front to her back, touching almost everywhere--and duck my head against hers. I press my mouth against Zimmy's shoulder. Her skin is hot enough to burn down the entire forest.

"Hello," Jack says. He bows.

"Right," Zimmy says. She bares her teeth. A group of giggling girls run into the room, arms swinging, and Zimmy growls. Something twitches in a corner. The walls begin to melt. There are too many people in the room, and it is difficult to tell who is real and who is not.

I test a girl in red. She yells. Her friends begin to scream.

"C'mon," Jack says. He offers a hand to Zimmy, but she is too busy trying not to step on the snakes on the floor to notice. I wrap a hand around her right wrist and press her palm against Jack's. I hold her left hand as we run into a deserted corridor.

The snakes disappear. The band begins to play something sharp and strange; I do not recognize the song, but I wonder if Zimmy knows how to dance. Jack bobs his head with the beat, and his feet echo the drums.

"Is she okay?" he asks. He looks at me. The music keeps playing.

Zimmy points at a shadow, and it disappears before I can touch it. "Let's hunt spiders," she says.

"Yes," I say. To explain more is too complicated in English. She is szalony, stracony, Zimmy. I smile and shrug. Zimmy starts singing about spiders in my head.

"Good," he says. A new song begins and he wiggles. "Oh, I love this tune! Such a brilliant beat!"

I nod. I am pretty sure my face is bright red. Zimmy starts laughing. She points at me.

\--Oooh, yer so funny yer a tomato face.

"We could dance," Jack says. He holds out his arms. "If you like."

I blush even harder. Duck my head and wish Zimmy would stand still so I could hide my face against her neck. She smells like electricity and dead flowers. I would hold her all the time if she'd let me.

"Or not," he says, just as I take a step toward him. He drops his hands to his sides.

I am not brave. The Court is full of brave people, but I am only here because I keep Zimmy from blowing everything up. I do not even speak the language. I am too stupid to learn it. I hold up my right hand, palm facing him, and say, "Yes, dance."

Jack smiles. Zimmy barks. Jack presses his palm against mine and places his other arm on my shoulder.

"Gerroff her," Zimmy screams. She pushes Jack away and starts kicking at the floor. "I'll mess you up gerroff."

I wrap my hand around her elbow and she calms down. A staircase sprouts from the stone floor in front of us. Higher and higher, turning in circles as it twists around empty space; it creaks as it grows higher than we can see.

Jack jumps up three stairs. "I wonder where this goes?" he asks.

His magic is raw and wild. It smells like Zimmy, and I want to cup it in my hand to keep it safe. I want to punch it and stomp in it and throw it into the river. I wrap my hand around Zimmy's wrist and we climb the stairs two at a time.

There is a sentry bird in the corner. I try not to see it, but it is too late. I think about it, and Zimmy notices it. She snarls. Pulls me behind her as she runs to _bite its ‘ead off I'll_. My palm is sweaty. I slip, and one of the steps bites a line into my shin as a fall. I bite my lip. Zimmy twirls. An army of giant birds begins to flap their wings. Feathers rain down on us; one lands on my cheek, another on the top my head.

"No," Zimmy screams, "She's mine giver back I'll mess you up awful."

\--I'm here. Zimmy, listen to me and turn around. I'm here.

\--Gamma?

Another bird swoops past. I start brushing the feathers onto the floor.

Zimmy kicks and claws; she spins and flings herself at everything she sees. I push myself to my feet. She does not hear me. Won't look at me. Jack is wide-eyed and blinking, and I push him at Zimmy. His legs are longer.

"Her hand," I say. I clasp my hands together to explain.

He grabs her right hand and holds it between both of his. Zimmy stops moving. Jack freezes. I run toward them as fast as I can; the air cuts through me and I can't breathe. I collapse against Zimmy's back, and Jack falls to the ground with us.

"Uh," Jack says. He shakes his head. Sits up.

\--Gamma yer alive they said yer dead but I ain't believed ‘em.

Zimmy throws herself on top of me and digs her teeth into the bone of my shoulder. I run my fingers up and down her spine. She shakes. I hold her closer. Jack holds his hand out in front of him like he isn't sure it belongs to him.

"The faceless people," he says. I don't think anything traveled back with him this time--no whitelegs, no greylegs, no frogs--but I will ask Zimmy to check once she's calmed down. "I made them disappear by touching them," he adds.

I lift my left hand from Zimmy's back and rest it on the ground nearest Jack. His eyes twitch back and forth as he looks at Zimmy and then me, and I start to count. I get to seven just as he touches his thumb to my wrist.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anyone who helped make this happen (yes, even you).


End file.
